


Huggin', Kissin', Holdin' Each Other Tight.

by kotabear24



Series: #Kinkprompt [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Play, Baby Harry, Canon Compliant, Come Swallowing, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, Daddy Louis, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Headspace, M/M, Mild Kink, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Harry's nineteen. Sometimes, Harry's three. Sometimes, Harry's eight. Louis loves him all the time.</p><p>For @annelies23 and nonny's ageplay #kinkprompt. </p><p>Title bastardized from lyrics of <i>Be My Baby Tonight</i> by John Michael Montgomery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Huggin', Kissin', Holdin' Each Other Tight.

Louis coughed, a little uncomfortable as he and Alberto waited for the cashier to hurry up and find her stupid manager. A single price sticker issue and suddenly she needed to go to Africa to find her boss, or something. Louis insisted he could just pay whatever price was on, wrong or not, but she’d gotten all flustered – clearly a fan – and refused to over-charge him. 

Which left him and his giant body guard standing in the middle of the check-out in Target with a conveyer belt topped with the Melody Express Musical Train set, a Crayola Glow Station, a K’Nex Amusement Park Series Speed Coaster, a Magna Tiles set, a Large-sized, light pink footie pajama onesie that zipped all the way up, and a few new stuffed animals. 

Harry was spoiled. Louis was well aware. Alberto didn’t ask questions.

It had been _incredibly_ awkward, telling the young cashier he was shopping for his family’s Christmas presents, when these things were all going to be part of something decidedly _not_ for his familial consumption. However, it was better that the cashier, who pulled out her phone the very second she turned to go find her manager, believed these toys were for his kid sisters and brother and mum, rather than the truth: he was going to give Harry a massive surprise in a few weeks when they had time off for Christmas, dress him down in pajamas, and let him be a sweet, sweet little baby boy.

“So sorry for the delay, Mr. Tomlinson,” the cashier said as she returned, breathless and slightly teary-eyed. 

Louis forced a smile and nodded. “No problem, no worries,” he said, trying not to roll is eyes at what a strange reaction people had to the excitement of seeing him – which was, obviously, in and of itself weird as _hell_ (flattering, sometimes, though). “Everything sorted?” He checked, breathing a sigh of relief when she nodded quickly and punched in some code, he presumed, to fix the pricing issue. 

“W-would you like to open a card with us today, sir?” She asked, not quite meeting his eyes.

Louis smiled and said, “No, thank you.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, “I just have to ask everyone.”

Louis laughed a bit, trying to diffuse the slight awkwardness of the situation. He leaned forward and asked quietly, “Would you like an autograph, or a photo, love?”

The cashier squeaked and nodded rapidly, and pulled out her phone. “I could get in so much trouble for this,” she babbled, but she apparently didn’t care as she fixed the camera and held it up for them. Louis laughed as he leaned forward and let her snap a photo, and Louis grabbed the sharpie he always carried in his pocket and grabbed a random coupon lying by the register. He signed it and handed it to her, and leaned over the counter awkwardly to give her a hug, simply so he felt like he could ask, “Would you mind not posting that immediately? Maybe wait a few hours, until we get a bit out of the way?”

“Oh, of course,” she said, and added in a faint whisper, “ _Daddy_.”

Louis nearly choked on his own saliva and started coughing, but the girl looked _mortified_ that the thought had slipped out, so he laughed and gave her a wink. Behind Louis, Alberto gave no response to the interaction.

Good. Flirtation after a sexual remark from a female was always good. 

“Thanks again, love,” he said as he handed over his card. She swiped it and handed it back, nodding and clearly trying to calm herself. He took the receipt she handed him and smiled before walking out of the store, right back to the car, Alberto just barely behind him.

“Well, _that_ was awkward,” he said lightly as he climbed in. 

“Awe, what’s the matter, Daddy?” Alberto teased him, and Louis had to laugh loudly; it sounded so awkward coming from literally anyone else.

Louis rolled his eyes as he listened to Alberto tell Don, the driver, what took so long (and the Daddy thing), but he wasn’t in the least annoyed. He had a huge bag of presents for Little Harry that would win him Daddy of the year – stuff Little Harry’d been wanting for _months_.

Obviously, Harry could afford to buy the presents – hell, he could probably afford to buy the companies that _made_ the presents, and pay off each worker for a year – but neither of them are all too comfortable with Harry buying his own toys for when he’s little. It’s something small Louis can do to help, and when they first started this thing, maybe two years ago, Louis tended to come home with a few small presents and it helped Harry feel like Louis really _was_ comfortable with it all, and that he did care no matter what and _that_ – that confidence that Louis wasn’t uncomfortable with the age play – made Harry go down easier, made him feel more taken care of and looked after. 

Naturally, in the last nearly two years, Louis’d found other ways to get Harry to shrink down into Little Harry-space just as well, but buying Harry toys for when he’s little makes Harry, Little Harry, _and_ Louis happy, and there aren’t many ways Louis can get something for Harry. Not anymore, at least, because Harry was almost as rich as Louis, so he could get anything just as easily as Louis. It was problematic, potentially, until they both made the agreement: Harry wouldn’t buy anything for his littler self. He would leave that up to Louis. 

With Christmas rolling around, Harry and Louis generally had a few different Christmases: they’d have Christmas at Harry’s family’s, Christmas at Louis’ family’s (and they alternated which one went first every year), and then they went home and had Christmas, just Louis and Little Harry. 

This year, Louis was doing it big, too. He was excited. This year had been a little stressful – between the joke that was “Hendall”, more weird Eleanor drama, the backlash from the weed video he’d done with Zayn, the disgusting favorited tweets on Harry’s account, and all the other shite-fest that was One Direction’s management – and Louis wanted to make sure Harry got his little-space time; they hadn’t had enough downtime nearly as much, in 2014; Louis needed it, as well. 

So, as Louis drove towards Christmas at his mum’s house, he made sure that his and Harry’s house was being decorated properly. He and Harry hadn’t had time to do it, and Harry’d mentioned it enough times to tell Louis he was a little saddened by it, which led to Louis making sure it happened while they were gone. He wanted Harry to see their house lit up from the end of the street on their way home, and as Louis checked his phone at a petrol station, he gave the decorator’s a call to check in, hanging up just as Harry walked out of the store. 

This Christmas would be amazing.

\---

Harry was completely passed out. One Louis had ensured that they wouldn’t have to stop for anything else that might require normal human interaction, he’d let Harry start dropping down into his little-space, and apparently Little Harry was pooped. Granted, it’d been a long two days, between the chaos of Louis’ family and the attention overload Harry always got when they went back to Cheshire, and even normal-Harry had looked a little snooze-y, so little-Harry was no doubt zonked out from the energy and happiness and attention of the last few days. 

It was dark by the time Louis pulled down onto their street, and Harry was snoring, his mouth wide open and the tiniest bit of drool falling from his mouth. His head was leaned over on his shoulder awkwardly, and he had one hand over the crotch of his jeans, the other resting on the center console, having fallen off the arm rest. The lights shining brightly all over the house – beautifully; Louis would have to leave a huge tip – colored his beautiful, pale skin through the window, and Louis sighed with a fond smile on his face.

He’d sort of envisioned Little Harry being awake for this, his nose pressed against the window, eyes wide and hands plastered on the glass, leaving smudges he’d grumble about when he was Big again. Louis imagined Harry being in awe of the house, seeing the magic and loving every second of it. It didn’t work out that way, obviously, but Louis knew Harry would still be touched, whether he was little or big when he saw it for the first time. 

Louis pulled into the garage and parked the car. He unloaded their bags first, just dropping them in the laundry room right inside the door from the garage, so they could do laundry later. Once everything was brought in, Louis went back out to the car and opened Harry’s door, careful not to jostle him too much. 

He gently shook Harry awake, brushing hair out of his face and waiting with a smile when Harry blinked open and looked at him a bit grumpily. 

“Daddy?” He asked, a clenched-up fist rubbing at his eye. 

“It’s me, baby,” Louis said quietly, rubbing at Harry’s shoulder soothingly. He didn’t want Harry to wake up too much; it was still bed time. “We’re home. Wanna crawl on up to bed? Daddy’ll bring you some milk.” Louis unbuckled Harry’s seatbelt for him and backed a few steps away to let Harry hop out of the car, but Harry wanted to push his luck. 

“Sippy cup?” He tried, and ordinarily, Louis would fight it, but Harry was tired, and he had such trouble fighting with Harry when he was little. 

Louis sighed, trying to hide a fond smile. “Go crawl up to bed and Daddy’ll bring you a sippy cup,” he gave in easily. Harry managed a weak little smile and traipsed into the house, stumbling and rubbing at his eyes. He grumbled when he bumped into the door frame, but kept on going after a second, and Louis shut the door and locked the car up, heading into the house. 

He double-checked the locks out of habit, and then went into the very back of the pantry, where there was a bag specifically hidden behind a large sack of potatoes nobody would think to look behind, if for some reason there was a nosy person sneaking around the pantry. Louis rifled through the bag and grabbed a bright blue plastic cup, along with its lid, with a picture of Big Bird plastered onto it. He rinsed the cup out before grabbing the chocolate milk from the fridge and filling the cup halfway up. Harry would whine if he noticed, but he’d also fall asleep before he drank all of what Louis gave him, so Louis wasn’t too upset. 

Turning off all the lights as he trudged upstairs, Louis listened carefully for sounds of Harry changing into his sleep onesie, but heard nothing. When he reached their bedroom, he had to snicker.

Harry was bent over the bed, one foot in his onesie and one out, face smushed, fingers of his right hand still holding onto his pj set while the other was resting on the bed, exactly like he’d leaned onto the bed to get his other foot in and fallen asleep like that. 

Louis set the chocolate milk on the table at Harry’s side of the bed – it would keep through the night, if he woke up during – and tried to be gentle and quiet as he hauled Harry up, all the way onto and up towards the head of the bed. Louis knew, as Harry grumbled the tiniest bit, that he wasn’t getting the duvet out from under Harry now – not without waking the beast and facing its wrath – so he ducked into the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out a blanket for them for the night. Shrugging out of his own clothes, Louis crawled into bed and waited patiently for Harry to inevitably scoot closer to the heat source and comfort of Louis’ embrace in his sleep. When he finally did, Louis relaxed fully, wrapping his arms around Harry’s lower back, and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before they were both passed out, curled into each other.

\---

Louis’ breath left him in a groan when a _very_ heavy weight settled upon his abs and hips. 

“Dad _dy_ ,” Louis heard from a high(er), very petulant voice above him. “Daddy, wake up! I want to play.”

Louis peeled his eyelids apart through sheer willpower and saw Harry – well, very obviously still Little Harry, what with the onesie still zipped all the way up, the hair down and falling on his shoulders, and the simple fact that he was on top of Louis, rather than at his side or wandering around the house. When Harry was in his normal-space, any pajamas put on at the beginning of the night were mostly off by morning, and his hair was always put up in a bun, now that it was so long and it got twisted around his neck when he got hot in his sleep and made him uncomfortable. 

Harry was sitting on top of him, covers hiked up over his shoulders even though his face was shining with a thin layer of sweat over his skin (probably from the thermal onesie he’d picked out, because it was a dark green with brown and red Rudolphs all over it; Harry was a festive person, headspace regardless), and looking down at Louis with a slight frown suggesting he’d been up for a while.

“Morning, baby,” Louis grunted out, his voice strained and raspy. Harry wiggled on Louis’ stomach. Rubbing his eyes, Louis squinted up at Harry, the brightness of Harry – and probably the sun coming in from the room; Louis wasn’t _that_ dramatic or sappy – nearly blinding him. “Are you hungry?” He asked. Sometimes, Little Harry was hungry first thing in the morning; sometimes, he’d turn his nose up at food and throw a _fit_ if it was offered within the first hour or so of waking up.

Today was clearly the latter of those days, because he scrunched his nose up and shook his head, curls flying every which way. “I wanna _play_ ,” he insisted, hands squeezing Louis’ shoulders clumsily. “Play with me, please?”

“Give Daddy just a minute to wake up, okay?” Louis asked – begged, really – and Harry huffed. “What do you want to play? You don’t want to open your presents first?” He checked. He wasn’t sure if Harry remembered Louis telling him he had presents waiting for him under the tree on the drive home the night before. 

Clearly, he didn’t, because he lit up like the Christmas tree Louis knew was done magnificently downstairs, and scrambled off Louis’ body, knocking the breath out of Louis in the process with a poorly-placed knee. By the time Louis coughed breath back into his lungs, Little Harry was already padding downstairs, cheering, “Christmas! Christmas! Christmas for Harry!”

Louis rubbed his hand down his face and chuckled, telling himself he had to wake up; there was no going back to sleep when Harry was little. Louis crawled out of bed and pulled on some socks once he winced at the cold floor. In nothing but socks and boxers, Louis followed after Little Harry, listening for the sounds of obnoxious happiness and following that. 

\---

“Can we play, now, Daddy?” Harry asked a little plaintively once all his toys were opened, breakfast was finished, and they’d played with about twenty percent of Harry’s new toys, pouting his lip up at Louis from his new “big boy” chair. 

“Sure,” Louis said. “What do you wanna play with, now?” 

“No,” Harry huffed. “I wanna _special_ play,” he elaborated, squirming a bit. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Louis said, feeling like he’d been hit with a hammer. Harry didn’t often want to “special” play. Well, Louis corrected himself, _Little_ Harry didn’t. Little Harry was more about simply wanting to be looked after, cared-for, and getting loved on; as _kinky_ as Louis supposed it was, it wasn’t really a sex thing for them, often. “Well,” Louis swallowed. His cock twitched to life underneath his boxers. Maybe it wasn’t a sex thing, but it sure turned Louis on to look after such a vulnerable, pliant and interactive side of Harry. “Alright, baby,” he finally answered. 

“ _Yesssss_ ,” Little Harry hissed out, doing an adorable little fist pumping dance in his chair. All at once, he jumped out of his chair and stood, hunching himself over almost naturally so he was just under eye level with Louis. “Kiss?” He asked, puckering his lips and raising his eyebrows, keeping his eyes open with excitement. 

Smiling, Louis cupped Little Harry’s face and stroked his thumb over one of Harry’s eyelids, causing them to flutter closed. “Close your eyes, baby,” he said quietly, and leaned in to kiss Harry sweetly. He never could read exactly what Little Harry wanted, but he knew giving him clear instructions was either hit or miss, one hundred percent, so he started with that. 

Harry responded eagerly, making Louis wonder, not for the first time since they woke up, exactly how old Harry was at the moment. His tongue flicked against Louis’ lips, and Louis opened his mouth to let him in with a happy sigh, licking across Harry’s tongue. 

It almost felt like this Harry had no idea what he was doing, which told Louis he was at least single-digits, knowing Harry’d had his first kiss at nine, and that they’d kissed an awful lot, from Big Harry’s stories. “Just do what I do,” Louis instructed against Harry’s lips. 

“Okay,” Little Harry said, brushing his lips against Louis’ just the way Louis’d done. When Louis smiled, right up against Little Harry’s skin, he did the same thing, and then leaned in for more kissed. 

“Wanna go back to Daddy’s bed?” Louis asked, leaning to kiss up Little Harry’s cheek bone, breathing against Harry’s ear. 

Harry shook his head, whimpering against Louis’ breath on his ear, and wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck like he just wanted to hold on. 

“Want Daddy’s mouth, then?” Louis tried, knowing he wouldn’t – couldn’t – fuck Little Harry. 

Luckily, Harry just gasped and rocked his hips against Louis’, making Louis guide him gently over to the couch. He set Harry down on it, zipping the onesie down the rest of the way and freeing Little Harry’s otherwise-naked cock. It was big, and red, standing up hard, and Louis kneeled on the floor and leaned over and circled his fist around it immediately; Little Harry was too impatient for foreplay. 

He gasped at Louis’ touch and his hips jerked up when Louis stroked his cock, and Louis made no move to pin his hips down. Little Harry could have whatever he wanted. 

Harry started babbling the moment Louis pressed his lips against Harry’s cock head, just rubbing the precome already gathered against his lips for a (hopefully) smoother glide. After a few somewhat-salty little licks to Harry’s cock, Louis opened his mouth, pressing his lips against Harry’s cock twice, and bobbed his head down enough to cover the head of Harry’s cock. Harry’s hips jerked up again, and Louis let him. He could take it. 

Louis pulled off after a few bobs, spat on Harry’s dick and stroked the saliva up and down, twisting his wrist as he went to surprise Harry a little more. It was Christmas, after all. 

“Look at you,” Louis said, loving the wet sounds of his hand stroking his baby’s cock. “Such a good little boy for Daddy, aren’t you?” He asked, and as Harry cried out and nodded frantically, Louis took his cock down a few inches deeper, feeling Harry’s dick press against where his throat started to tighten, right before it hit the back of his throat. 

“Yes, Daddy,” Little Harry answered, his voice almost hysterical. Louis gagged momentarily as Harry tried to push his cock deeper, and Louis pulled off, spitting on his dick again and spreading it. 

“Such a little boy, but your prick’s so big, isn’t it?” Louis continued, his voice low and raspy like he knew Little Harry loved. “Did it get big just for Daddy?”

“Y- _yes_ , Daddy!” Harry wailed when Louis took his cock down again before he’d even answered. 

His cock was definitely hitting the back of Louis’ throat every bob down, now, but Harry was quickly falling apart and Louis wasn’t about to ease off. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and breathed through his nose. It was a bit awkward – Louis wasn’t the one deep throating, usually; he didn’t have much practice in this area, and Little Harry wasn’t exactly considerate – but he managed, going almost as deep as he usually would with Big Harry. 

“Daddy,” Harry whispered, and got louder. “Daddy. _Daddy_. Daddy!” He finally wailed. Louis brought his free hand up and gently cradled Harry’s balls, rolling them oh-so-softly in his hands. Harry gasped, his mouth left wide open silently, and then cried out once, loud and high-pitched, “ _Oh_!” and Louis had to pull back because he tasted come in his mouth. 

He tried to swallow it all, but he had to pull off to breath and the rest weakly squirted out onto his top lip, giving him a teensy tiny come moustache he knew Little Harry would giggle over. 

Once he stopped gasping for breath, that was. 

Louis’ throat was _on fire_ , but he still knee-walked up closer to Harry’s face and brushed hair away from his eyes and nose, where it’d landed after Little Harry’d clearly been tossing his head side to side, waving it all around. He puckered his lips out and gave Little Harry a few soft, sweet kisses by his temple, careful not to get come on his face, as it tended to break him out ( _that_ discovery had been an experience Louis would treasure for all his days, even if they didn’t do it unless they were on long breaks). 

“Okay?” Louis asked softly, folding his syllables gently to try and keep Harry down in his Little space some more. (It wasn’t often they got to do this, after all; Harry was incredibly private and refused to do it on tour or when they were recording.)

Harry swallowed, giving a sound-reprieve of his panting, only for Louis to hear it again once he opened his mouth. He nodded, though, and his hand came up to fumble down Louis’ chest and over to his arm, sliding down past his elbow and forearm until his fingers reached Louis’. Louis squeezed their fingers together gently and slowly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Harry’s awkwardly-bent hand. 

“How’s my boy?” He asked, subtly rubbing his cock against the front of the couch to relieve some of the pressure. Harry looked so _hot_ , right then. 

Harry looked over to Louis and immediately giggled. _Definitely_ still Little Harry, then. “Dad _dy_ ,” he said, like he was calling Louis out for being intentionally silly. “You’ve got a milk moustache,” he said, rubbing his own top lip with his free hand. 

Louis smiled. “Wanna kiss it off?” He invited, and Harry’s already too-bright eyes brightened a shade more as he smiled and nodded tiredly. Louis leaned forward and closed his eyes, letting Harry wrap his lips over and under his top lip and suck it off. It was a strange sensation, and not one he was used to feeling – Big Harry was more of a bottom lip kind of man, and Little Harry didn’t know so suck lightly during a kiss – but it was nice nonetheless, Louis decided. 

“Thanks, baby,” he said softly when Harry pulled back. 

Harry nodded, and then frowned when he felt Louis rub up against the couch again. “Daddy,” he began contemplatively, “did you explode?” 

“No, but that’s okay,” Louis answered, and tried his best to mean it. “Daddy doesn’t need to explode all the time, it’s alright.”

But Little Harry already had that look in his eyes – that upset look, like he was genuinely heartbroken and indignant on Louis’ behalf, for not having experienced the same “explosion” Harry had.

“I can,” he offered. “I can massage it. Your – your _prick_ ,” he whispered, and then looked up at Louis like he wasn’t sure if Louis would let him get away with saying that. 

Louis hesitated, but his cock was _throbbing_. “Do you – want to?” He asked, and Harry’s frown instantly evaporated, leaving a blinding smile in its wake as he nodded. 

“Oh, _yes_ , please, Daddy,” he said politely, pulling his knees up to his own belly in excitement. He was always doing that – moving in strange little ways when he felt strongly some particular way or another. “Can I?”

“Of course, baby,” Louis said, and stood up. Harry moved, struggling and huffing to sit up from his reclining position on the couch, and sat up straight while Louis pulled down his boxers, letting them pool at his feet. He stepped out of them, but left the socks on – it looked stupid, but not as stupid as going a little soft in the face of a hand job because of cold tiles in the dead of December. 

Little Harry didn’t seem to care, either way; he looked delighted as he stared at Louis’ cock, and then looked up at Louis. 

“Remember to spit first, baby,” Louis said, acting like they’d talked about it before to avoid questions. If Little Harry felt like he’d forgotten something, he rarely asked, because he didn’t want to feel silly for having to be reminded. 

So, he nodded, and spit in his hand, looking up at Louis for confirmation. When Louis nodded, he grinned and slowly wrapped his hand around Louis’ cock, easily holding it with his huge hands. “It fits,” he said, a little surprised. It momentarily threw Louis – he was always forgetting, for some reason, that when Harry was Little Harry, he truly _was little_ , in his mind, in every sense of the word. 

“’S ‘cause you’ve got big-boy hands, baby,” Louis said, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could watch Harry for signs of – anything. 

Harry looked pleased at the praise, and then stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, clearly trying to figure the whole thing out, squeezing just a tad too much and going too slow. 

“Can you go a little looser for Daddy, baby?” He asked gently. “You’re too strong for Daddy’s cock, aren’t you,” he added when Little Harry looked slightly crestfallen. The compliment clearly had its effect, and Louis tipped his head back and chewed his bottom lip as Little Harry stroked his cock slow and sweet, the stimulation causing a million and one sensations flowing throughout his entire body. “Do it racecar fast, now?” He asked, and had to _fight_ not to groan, so as not to throw Little Harry off as soon as he complied and stroked fast. 

There was clear muscle memory in Little Harry’s movements, now, almost as if, regardless of Harry’s age mind-space, his body would know how to make Louis feel good. 

Louis was already close, and Little Harry leaning forward to kiss Louis’ happy trail, looking up at him with big, wide eyes as he stroked Louis’ cock certainly did nothing to make him last. 

Nothing in particular set him off, like Harry’s orgasm, but the build just kept getting better and better until it got too big, and Louis came, shooting come down Harry’s neck and chest. Little Harry stopped as soon as Louis started coming, leaning back and looking down at himself, so Louis took over, stroking his own cock rapidly to keep himself going through aftershocks as he swayed on his feet. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned when he was done, and Little Harry’s eyes widened at Louis’ swear word before Louis remembered to apologize to him quietly. He sank down onto the couch next to Harry, who immediately nuzzled up against Louis, come and all. Louis wrapped his arm around Harry and they looked at their living room, which was covered in wrapping paper and half-empty boxes and _toys_ – so many toys – and Louis knew clean-up would be _hell_ , especially if Harry stayed Little, but he didn’t really care, to be honest.


End file.
